And His Head, If You Want Me To
by Anna Fay
Summary: We've been missing Guy for two weeks. Where has he been?


Thanks and tons of chocolate goes to Sedri, who was kind enough to be my beta in the English; and **asd** & **LesMis** in the Hungarian version. All remaining mistakes are mine.

_Sadly I do not own any of the original characters, they all belong to BBC and Tiger Aspect._

oOo

Guy was sitting in the darkness with his knees tightly pressed to his chest. This wasn't a rare thing anymore. Since his return from the Holy Land, his legs and arms seemed to act at their own will, the legs pulling themselves up and the arms hugging them involuntarily night after night. Only the surroundings changed this time.

We could be poetic and say that Guy had been released from the prison of his own mind and transferred to that of Prince John. We could then be even more poetic and say that no earthly prison could match the one his demons built for him with bricks of nightmares and cement of terror.

But this cell in particular needed no grand words to describe it. It was neither colder, nor hotter than the rest of England's cells, it wasn't suffocating the prisoner with its small size, its smell wasn't too bad, and it definitely had less rats than the ordinary peasant houses.

That was odd. Guy had prepared himself for the smallest, darkest, and worst cell Prince John could offer him and Vasey - the son of dogs and dwarfs who should be eaten by his own bloody birds!

Yet the Prince seemed to be in a good, forgiving mood. Or in his worst, most vengeful mood ever, if his plans were to make Guy hope for a week in a common cell and throw him into the worst afterwards.

"Up!" shouted the guard entering his room, and Guy was so surprised to hear him speak that he stood up immediately, and blinked in the sudden brightness of the torches around him. Never before had a guard spoken to him, they only put his food down and left.

"Guy of Gisborne," said Prince John, entering the cell with a bright smile and his arms spread out. The guards placed a small chair and candles on the floor and stood back. Any stranger could expect a friendly hug, but anyone who knew the prince would also know that it was wise to back a few steps from him.

Having met the prince before, Guy stepped backwards as he bowed before him.

"You can leave us," said the prince, signaling to the guards, and sitting down on his chair in a way that suggested the beginning of a friendly supper. "You may sit, Sir Guy," he added, placing one elbow on his knee and smiling.

Muttering the second "your highness" in a minute, Guy sat down on his pallet with as much dignity as it was possible.

"Well," sighed the prince, smiling his ever-friendly smile and making Guy almost shiver with it. "You know why you are here, I presume."

"Yes, Your Highness," nodded Guy.

"Please, Sir Guy, do tell me why," said John, making it sound more like genuine curiosity than interrogation.

"Vasey sent me instead of himself," said Guy cautiously; it would have been most unfortunate to tell the prince something he hadn't already known.

"I know," nodded John, and after clearing his throat he asked: "How is our good friend Vasey these days?"

"He's afraid."

"That's good," laughed John. "He has every right to be. _Every_ right."

Guy had to summon all his strength to keep from flinching. He was happy to hear that Vasey could not escape his fate by giving Guy to the prince, but whatever was about to kill the wretched dwarf, it was more than likely to kill him as well.

"All I have to decide now is what I should do with you, Sir Guy," said John, humming as if he was speaking to himself.

Guy could almost see the rack and the redeeming gallows, but he refused to think of the other option - that the prince wanted to kill him slowly.

It was time to act. He had all his plans lined up in no time. He could drop to his knees and beg for his life; he could attack the prince, and be killed by the guards on the spot; he could try to flee... all of them sounded good, as all of them meant a quick end to his story. Or to his life.

"Any suggestions?" asked John in a kind voice, as if he was asking one of his bastards if he wanted to ride his pony, or play something else on this bright spring day.

The situation could surely have been worse, but Guy couldn't really think of anything he could lose any more, and that was something to pull courage from.

"Release me," he said, raising his head. "Release me, and I will bring you the money Vasey owes you. And his head, if you want me to."


End file.
